


the joy of understanding

by overcomewithlongingfora_girl



Series: girls, girls, girls! [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: :/, ATLA Winter Femslash Week 2021, Accessible Design, Alternate Universe - College/University, Because Smellerbee Is Trans, Because...Toph is Blind, Blind Character, College, Except I Don't Know Anything About Mechanical Engineering, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Mechanical engineering, Minor Transphobia But Yeah It Is There, Trans Character, Transphobia, group project, idk what else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29137605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcomewithlongingfora_girl/pseuds/overcomewithlongingfora_girl
Summary: Toph and Smellerbee do a final project together and get to know each other a little along the way.
Relationships: Toph Beifong & Smellerbee, Toph Beifong/Smellerbee
Series: girls, girls, girls! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904494
Comments: 20
Kudos: 31





	the joy of understanding

Smellerbee was just starting to come around to liking Mr. Sang. Then he made their final a group project, and her opinion of him plummeted straight through the floor. There’s an odd number of people in the class, so Smellerbee shuts her eyes and hopes that they’ll all pair off and he’ll let her work alone. When she opens her eyes, there’s a group of three, and one girl across the room sitting alone.

Great. It’s the blind chick, blank green eyes fixed on some point over Smellerbee’s shoulder. _Blind chick._ Smellerbee winces – that’s probably a rude thing to think – but she doesn’t know the blind chick’s name.

Anyway, the girl’s probably more than capable. She’s in the advanced class, after all. That’s not Smellerbee’s issue. Her issue is that everyone else in the class knows she’s weird just by looking at her. Most of their classmates are men, after all – obnoxious, overconfident, interrupting men – and they dismiss the prickly blind girl right along with weird little Smellerbee. When it’s time to pair up, they turn to each other, and Smellerbee is left with the painful duty of sitting there while the blind girl discovers exactly how weird she actually is.

With a long-suffering sigh, Smellerbee slides into the empty chair next to the blind girl, who’s sketching something out on a little colorless tablet in front of her. “Don’t sigh like that,” the blind girl tells her, businesslike and cool. “I can pull my weight, okay?

Already Smellerbee is spluttering. “I-I…that’s not what I meant, um-”

“Good. I’m Toph. What’s your name?”

Wincing in anticipation of Toph’s reaction, Smellerbee says her name reluctantly. “I’m, uh, Smellerbee.”

“Cool. What’s your grade in this class?”

Blinking, Smellbee isn’t sure whether or not to recoil. “I, uh…that’s…I don’t have to tell you that.”

Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Toph turns to Smellerbee, which must be mostly symbolic because obviously she can’t really give the girl next to her a look or anything. “I’m trying to gauge how much of this project I’ll want your help with,” she informs Smellerbee, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you want, I’ll just do it myself.”

“Hey, no, I can help,” protests Smellerbee, not sure if she should be grateful for the offer. Part of her wants to be indignant that Toph thinks she’s so useless, but Smellerbee kinda thinks it has more to do with Toph trusting herself than not trusting Smellerbee. “I have…I get good grades. I’m in the engineering program just like you are. I can help.”

“Whatever.” Toph dismisses the whole argument with a flick of her hand, and Smellerbee wonders if she’ll ever feel settled around this completely unpredictable girl. “What do you want to design?”

The assignment is focused toward transportation, and Smellerbee has a few vague ideas about high speed trains. She offers as much to Toph, who looks less than excited. “I want to design an accessible plane,” she declares, as if it’s nothing, and Smellerbee can’t help the smile that spreads up the side of her face.

“Like, how accessible?”

“For blind pilots.”

To that, Smellerbee has no idea what to say. “Uh…”

“ _Obviously_ I’m kidding.” Toph shakes her head, smirking to herself. “Wheelchair accessible. Past time people were able to ride their chairs onto a plane. A similar docking system to buses should work, maybe with reinforced mechanisms for the added stress of takeoff and landing…”

“That, um…that sounds…”

“I _know_ it’ll be harder,” Toph snaps, brows furrowing into a glare. “I know accessibility isn’t part of the assignment, but I don’t design shit that’s not accessible, okay?”

Smellerbee glares right back, even though she knows Toph can’t see it. “I was going to say that sounds cool.”

“Oh.” For a second, Toph looks stunned, and then a smile curves up her face. “Good. I have another class. Library at eight?” She’s already standing and gathering her backpack as she says it, leaving Smellerbee blinking behind her.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” She calls it to Toph’s back as the other girl walks away, and a brisk nod is the only response she gets. Alone at the table, still faintly stunned, Smellerbee nods to herself, not sure how else to react to this abrupt, businesslike, competent girl.

“I guess…I guess that went better than expected.”

_

Usually, Smellerbee would be at least five minutes late to their meeting, but though she’s never cared about first impressions before, this feels…important. At seven fifty-five, she’s already seated at a corner table on the second floor, which gives her plenty of time to wonder how Toph is going to find her.

The problem is that Smellerbee doesn’t even have Toph’s number, so she can’t exactly text or call to say where she is. And Toph would have to talk to every individual person on the first floor to confirm they weren’t Smellerbee, before she heads to the second. So…so while Smellerbee doubts that Toph is the type of person who likes being led somewhere, she figures that this is probably a time that going to find Toph herself makes sense.

The library is crowded – always is this time of night, but especially during finals week – so Smellerbee drags her sweatshirt over her head and drapes it over the table. She opens a notebook and spills a few pencils across the desk so it’s clear that someone’s sitting there. She grabs her computer case and her phone, and then, ten steps away from the table, doubles back for her graphing calculator. Hers had cost her like fifty bucks, and in a couple of her finals, would make the difference between her passing and failing. No way she’s taking chances with that.

Thus encumbered, Smellerbee heads downstairs to lurk awkwardly near the door, waiting for Toph. Standing by the entrance is sort of torturous. People naturally look at her as they come in, and even when there’s nothing on their faces, no judgment or disgust or, or anything, Smellerbee wonders what they think of her. Which they probably aren’t. They’re not thinking about her. But if they are…

Smellerbee scowls, just in case. Better that they judge her for the expression on her face than for something else.

The girl and her cane burst through the door at exactly eight pm, and unsure of herself as she is, Smellerbee goes to retrieve them. She waits until she’s a few feet from Toph. “Hey. Hey, um, I got us a table on the second floor.” Too late, she wonders if she should’ve introduced herself somehow, made it clear who she was.

“Good.” Her classmate seems to recognize her voice because she turns toward Smellerbee readily. “Let’s take the stairs.” Wordlessly, Smellerbee heads in the right direction, and Toph follows, seemingly well-acquainted with the location of the stairs. They step inside the echoing stairwell and head up the carpeted stairs. When Toph’s voice rings out again behind her, Smellerbee almost jumps out of her skin. She hadn’t expected them to actually talk.

“I’m glad you got a table. People are crazy during finals week.”

“Yeah,” agrees Smellerbee uncertainly, not sure how to make small talk with this almost-stranger.

“Usually, I just play the blind card.” Toph widens her eyes, drops the smirk from her lips, and stretches her hands out in front of her, trembling. She doesn’t miss a beat in climbing the stairs, even though she’s waving the cane around instead of keeping it on the ground. “Is-is there a table over here I can use? I can’t see – are there any open tables?”

Despite her anxiety, Smellerbee smiles. “And that works?”

“Oh, yeah it does.” The self-satisfied smirk returns to Toph’s lips. “The way I see it, there are plenty of downsides to being blind. It’s up to me to find some upsides. Or make them.”

Snickering, Smellerbee nods. “Well, you won’t have to, tonight.”

“Even better.” A shadow crosses Toph’s face. “Obviously, I like having somewhere to work, but I can’t stand the _pity.”_

“Yeah, well.” Smellerbee swallows, wondering if she should bother. “You sure don’t seem like you need it.”

“ _Thank_ you.” Toph sounds pleased with her assessment, and Smellerbee allows herself a smile. Usually, she doesn’t do this well with new people. Usually, even when it’s someone being added to Jet’s friend group, they warm to her last.

Smellerbee’s smile drops with her next thought.

It probably helps that Toph can’t see her.

When they reach their table, they run into another problem. A triad of athlete guys wearing football sweatshirts are sitting there, Smellerbee’s sweatshirt and notebook and pencils dumped unceremoniously on the ground. As they approach, they all look up, faces walled off and decidedly unfriendly.

The _last_ thing Smellerbee wants to do is talk to guys like this – guys whose eyes narrow when they see her long hair, the makeup on her face. They linger too long on her body, and god, Smellerbee wishes she still had the indistinct insulation of her sweatshirt. Still. They need a place to sit, and Toph is starting to look confused. Smellerbee clears her throat. “Hey, so…my stuff was here.”

“Oh.” The guy that speaks is blonde, blue-eyed, square-jawed. His voice is flat, just on the right side of hostile. “We didn’t think anyone was sitting here.”

Bristling at his superiority, Smellerbee narrows her eyes. “Well, we were. Are.” If she sounds irritated enough, maybe she can cover the too-fast thrumming of her heart.

“Can you find somewhere else?” This is a new guy, black haired, just as dismissive, just as casually arrogant. He’s sprawled back against the chair, and the only thing in front of him is his phone. His backpack is still zipped. Smellerbee sort of doubts he’s here to get any work done.

Scowling, she tries again. “There aren’t a lot of tables left, and we were sitting here. You guys can find somewhere else to sit.”

Heaving a huge, put-upon sigh, the guys glance around the table at each other. “Look…” it’s the blonde guy again. “Maybe you can just, like, look? See if there are other tables? And if there aren’t, we can like, figure something out.”

“Okay, you guys can go do that,” Smellerbee snaps, patience going fast. “But it’s our table. We were here first.”

The black-haired guy laughs. “’We were here first,’” he taunts, voice a high mockery. “Dude, calm down. It’s just a fucking table.” Heart seizing in her chest, Smellerbee tightens her hands into fists and glares at him. He rolls his eyes, directs his gaze to Toph. “Hey, can you tell your boyfriend to fuckin’ calm down?”

Smellerbee’s heart drops like a stone. She swallows again, glares again, clenches her hands in fists again, but this time, her hands are shaking. She opens her mouth to speak again, but this time, Toph beats her to it.

“First of all, my partner’s a girl. Second – you’re really going to steal a table from a blind girl?” Toph cocks her head to one side, hand on her hip. “Fuck off. You’re not doing any work anyway.”

The guys are stupid enough to look surprised, and then decent enough to look a little embarrassed. “Uh…I didn’t know you were blind.” The blond guy scratches at his neck awkwardly, glancing at the other two, neither of whom will meet his eyes.

“Okay, so you’re going to give us the table now?” Toph’s voice is businesslike. It brooks no argument. Without much discussion, or any further argument, the guys gather their things, looking both faintly annoyed and faintly ashamed.

The blond guy is the one who turns to Smellerbee as she moves past him to put down her laptop. “Uh, sorry, man. I mean, dude. I mean, uh…sorry.”

It’s a pathetic effort, but an effort nonetheless. Smellerbee just nods, and the guy follows the rest of his friends away from the table. With a sigh, Smellerbee drops into the seat he’s vacated. There’s no point to avoiding Toph’s eyes, but she does it anyway.

“Those guys sucked,” Toph declares brightly, already pulling things out of her backpack. A silver protractor, a pencil case, a laptop. Smellerbee doesn’t recognize the brand, but she knows just looking at it that it’s the most expensive computer she’s ever seen.

“Did they look as stupid as they sounded?”

The question jars Smellerbee out of her thoughts. “Um…uh…yeah, pretty much.”

Snickering, Toph shakes her head. “Athletes, right?”

“Yeah. Good guess.”

Toph snorts. “Yeah, well, one of the idiot guys I hang out with is an athlete, and they sounded just like some of his less evolved friends.”

“Yeah.” Smellerbee can’t really focus on what Toph is saying. She’s still fighting down the squirming, miserable discomfort in her stomach. She pulls her sweatshirt over her head; glad the piece of clothing is two sizes too big. She wonders if it covers her neck well enough. She wonders how long it’s going to take her hair to grow out. She wonders if Jet will take her to the mall so she can steal some better fucking makeup. He always dismisses it as pointlessly risky, but he doesn’t _fucking get that she needs it –_

“Hey.” Toph raps her knuckles sharply on the table between them. “You in there? What’s wrong with you?”

From anyone else, the question would set Smellerbee off, but the way Toph asks it, she sounds genuinely curious. And it’s not like she can see the sick, furious expression on Smellerbee’s face. “Nothing.” She clears her throat, because her voice sounds too low, and broken. “Nothing, I’m, uh, fine. Let’s just work, okay?”

Toph’s mouth quirks down, but after a moment’s pause, she nods. “Okay. So, can you actually do the drafting? I can’t really draw for shit on paper.” She waves a hand at the display in front of her – the high quality drafting paper, the pencils, the straight edge, the protractor. “Usually, I have one of my friends do it. It’ll be nice to have someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

Smellerbee nods before she remembers that’s not helpful. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do drafting.” She loves drafting, actually, the way that the lines come together clean and smooth and make the shape of something’s bones. Smellerbee was never one for art, but drafting feels like another kind of creation, or at least dreaming it. She runs her hands over the materials in front of her. “This is…this stuff is really nice.”

“Pays to have rich parents!” Toph crows it almost triumphantly.

Smellerbee snorts. “Yeah, I bet it does.” It sounds a little meaner than she meant it to. “My, uh. My parents don’t really…get…me.”

She winces at how pathetic it sounds, but Toph just shakes her head. “Hey, trust me, mine don’t really get me either.”

Tentatively curious, Smellerbee shoots an evaluative sideways glance at Toph, wondering if she shows emotions on her face the same way seeing people do. Is that a fair question? Do people learn from each other’s faces, or are things like that innate?

Whatever the answer, Smellerbee decides to risk it. “What don’t they get?” She can’t help her curiosity. “Like…mechanical engineering?”

Snorting, Toph shakes her head. “More like my interest in doing anything at all outside the house.”

“W-why would…?”

Toph waves a hand in front of her own face. “I’m blind, remember?” her voice is so loaded with sarcasm Smellerbee winces. “It’s not safe for a poor little blind girl to go to college. It’s especially not safe for a poor little blind girl to work with big, scary machinery.”

Grimacing, Smellerbee shakes her head. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Toph shrugs. “Least I have the trust fund, right?”

“Y-yeah.” The very idea of a trust fund staggers Smellerbee, makes her shake her head. “They, uh, at least they let you have that.”

“Oh, they don’t _let_ me have it.” Toph wrinkles her nose. “I’ve been siphoning off funds since I was twelve. They don’t even know where I live, otherwise they’d come haul me back home.”

Smellerbee is sort of…sort of just awed that Toph is telling her all of this, but the matter-of-fact way she lays it out makes it sound like nothing. It makes it seem okay for Smellerbee to keep asking questions. “Is that…is that even legal? I mean, after you’re eighteen-”

“I think they’re probably trying to have me declared unfit so they can maintain guardianship.” It’s casual, a throwaway comment that utterly staggers Smellerbee. She’s left stammering.

“I-I-I’m…I’m sorry. You’re not…you’re not unfit…”

“That’s up to the lawyers, I think.” How does she sound so _casual?_ And then she aims a smirk at Smellerbee. “Bet your parents aren’t that bad.”

The sick feeling in Smellerbee’s stomach, almost faded, rears its ugly head once more. “Yeah.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out audibly strained. “I, ah, don’t think they’re even looking for me.”

 _God._ When Toph reveals all her things, so casually, as if she doesn’t care, it sounds…well, it sounds like she doesn’t care. When Smellerbee talks, she just sounds pitiful. Scowling to herself, she clears her throat, and when she speaks again, her voice sounds rough and angry. “Let’s just, let’s just start working, okay?”

“Okay.” Toph sounds like she couldn’t care less, and Smellerbee hopes that’s true. The girl starts talking about planes – materials and streamlining and the shape of the wing – but Smellerbee stops listening. Despite her best efforts, she’s spiraling deeper into the funk that started when the stupid black-haired athlete boy called her Toph’s…Toph’s _boyfriend._

“Hey. Are you listening?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Okay. Want to start drafting?”

Any other night, Smellerbee would be happy to. Any other night, Smellerbee would take comfort in sketching out a blueprint, erasing all the extra lines until it’s polished and perfect. Tonight, though, her hands are shaking when she puts her hands on the table. There’s no way for Toph to know that, but there’s also no way Smellerbee can draw a neat line right now. She could turn in a slightly messy proposal and Toph would be none the wiser but…but that doesn’t seem fair. She sucks in a deep, almost painful breath.

Sensing the change in the air, Toph looks up. Smellerbee swallows, feels her throat bob. “I’m a girl.” She says it quietly, lamely. “I-I am.”

“Uh, okay.” Toph’s forehead wrinkles. “Gotcha.

Lips thinning into a line, Smellerbee shakes her head. “I know you heard what he said. That, that guy.” Toph stays silent, so Smellerbee forces the words out. “He called me, uh. Your…”

“Boyfriend.” Toph doesn’t see the way the word makes Smellerbee wince. “But you’re not. We’re barely friends. No offense. Although I think when I said _partners,_ he may’ve assumed that we were dating.”

“Y-yeah.” Smellerbee rubs her palms against her jeans. They’re clammy, sweaty, skid across the denim. “Look, just…”

“Just what?” Now Toph sighs, now she looks faintly exasperated. “You’re a girl. Got it. I don’t have a problem, and I do want to get to work, so if you could get to the point a little faster…”

Smellerbee wants to explain, she really does, but it’s hard to put into words what she’s thinking. It’s even harder to admit that she’s thinking what she is. “I…just…”

“Let me take a guess. Usually, people judge you based on your appearance. I can’t do that because I can’t see. You’re afraid I’m treating you the way I am because I can’t see that you’re…” Toph shakes her head. “Weird. Or different. Or whatever it is.”

Blinking, Smellerbee’s mouth opens and shuts a few times as she processes. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, that’s, um…that’s what I…was worried about.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.” Toph flicks her worries away with a wave of her hand. “I have plenty of weirdo friends, trust me. You should see the crazy bitch I met last year in some business class.”

“Oh. Um…good.” Smellerbee nods to herself. “That’s good.”

It is good. It is good, because she likes Toph, and she likes working with Toph. She likes the efficient, direct way she deals with things, and her wicked sense of humor, and her uncompromising approach to, well, everything. She listens, when Smellerbee has an idea about something, but she’s not afraid to tell Smellerbee if her idea sucks.

A week later, they present their projects. Two weeks later, they get the highest grade in the class.

Three weeks later, when they’re sitting next to each other in class, Smellerbee, flushing red the whole time, scribbles her number on a scrap of notebook paper and slides it across the table to Toph. The girl takes it, flips it over in her hand.

“I can’t read this, because I am blind,” she announces way too loudly, and Smellerbee winces, thanking god the classroom’s empty. “But if it’s what I think it is…you can pick me up at eight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lmk what y'all think :)
> 
> Also if you caught my lightning quick lil headcanons - Sokka is idiot athlete friend, he plays water polo. Azula is scary business bitch.


End file.
